


Stupid Happy

by fakebodies



Category: 2010: The Year We Make Contact (1984)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, bc damn these two got shortchanged in both versions (novel + film), its just really cute lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 11:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16953300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakebodies/pseuds/fakebodies
Summary: Maxim has a smile brighter than the sun itself, and, well, Walter can't really say no to a face like that





	Stupid Happy

Walter has always had a good ear for music- he had a good eye for lyric work as well. It came to him naturally, and he enjoyed it, but never quite enough to justify music becoming his career. He didn’t want his hobby to become a chore, so it stayed just that: a hobby. Throughout his life, he’d break out a guitar or a keyboard and play, serenading friends and coworkers with a chorus of a drinking song or some other tune. It was never long before he’d be joined by the voices of his cohorts, and even shorter still before they’d all dissolve into laughter. Good times were often had- Walter much preferred that to the grim realities of everything that could possibly go wrong on a mission to space. When he was assigned to the Leonov, he found himself packing the small journal he used for the occasional session of lyric writing (whenever his oft-fickle muse decided to strike); a reminder of better times amidst the heavy atmosphere of tragedy that would shortly surround them.

He certainly had no idea what to expect when he woke up. The Russians were… well, much livelier than Walter had ever hoped. They were a fun bunch, once everyone’d warmed up to each other. They all had their qualms about the partnership, but Woody was right- they were scientists, and they had no reason to be hostile. Walter especially found himself gravitating towards Maxim; the tall, blond man was warm-hearted and genuinely fun to be around. He was the first to propose a game and the first to urge Walter into a round of singing. Their friendship was quick to grow, and strong. Barely a moment were they apart, unless business or sleep drove them to opposite ends of the Leonov. Walter was surprised to find, one sleepless evening, that his muse had awoken from hibernation as well. Slipping off the elastic band, he began to write, something between lyrics and poetry.

As their time together progressed and their work on Discovery began, Walter often found himself on a completely different spacecraft than Max (outside of one, well… stupid occasion). They were still loathe to be apart- Walter missed Max’s infectious smiles, and Max missed Walter’s laugh, though he hadn’t admitted it out loud. Their evenings were often spent together in the quarters Walter shared with Heywood and Chandra. Chandra hadn’t left Discovery since HAL was reactivated, and Woody had more business to attend to than Walter did: they had plenty of privacy for their chats. Topics ranged from favorite animals to which folk songs were best to the hottest actresses to whether space or the sea was more mysterious, until one night Max lifted the small, black notebook from Walter’s pillow.

“What’s this?” he asks, turning it over. Walter shrugs. 

“Nothing, just an old journal.”

“What for? Writing about any spacecraft crushes?” Max smiles, teasing. They often joked about which potential romances would come to fruition by the end of their journey- Tanya and Vasili were in first place, considering they were married well before the expedition.

“No, it’s…  _дурак_ , Max.” Walter holds out his hand for the book. If he admitted it was for lyrics, Max would never tease him. That would involve showing him the pages, though.

“Stupid, hm? I’m sorry, I didn’t know it meant so much.” Max hands the notebook back to Walter, expression earnest- he really never would’ve poked fun if he’d known it was important. Walter smiles a little and shrugs.

“It’s for lyrics.” his mouth admits, while his brain kicks itself in the shins. Max’s eyes light up.

“Lyrics? You didn’t tell me you write.” Max smiles brightly.   
“Can I see some?”  


Ah, and there was the question Walter dreaded. He could never say no to Max, not with those eyes and that smile- despite what Katerina says, he’s sure it’s a physical impossibility to say ‘no’ to Maxim Brajlovsky. Sure enough, his mouth betrays him again.

“Sure.” Walter nods. He wants to cover his face with his hands and scream, but he settles for smiling awkwardly. Mentally crossing his fingers, he hopes Max will start at the beginning of the journal. Walter has never had good luck, however: Max flips straight to the most recent batch of lyrics, jumbled together across two pages and surrounded by little notes. Max reads, his eyes scanning the pages once, twice…

“ _Максим, ты дебил…_ ” he mutters, reading through the cramped lyrics a third time before finally looking back up at Walter.  
“These are about me?”  


“What gave it away?” Walter smiles a little, giving a half-hearted shrug.

“Well, unless you’re getting creative with Tanya’s hair, I’m the only blond.” Max chuckles. That gets a laugh out of Walter, who takes back the journal when Max holds it out to him.

“I’m afraid she’s not my type.”

“So, excluding any lady friends back home-” Max gives a slight shrug, “-is your type possibly ‘strong, blond, Russian men?’”

“I don’t know what I would’ve told you before boarding this ship, but I’m starting to think it is.” Walter answers Max’s hopeful smile with one of his own. Laughing, Max closes the space between them, hooking his arms around Walter’s neck as his smile turns bright- Walter would even say ‘radiant.’

They can’t say the dynamic changes much on the ship, even if they do sneak off to see each other during work much more often. Walter and Max had always been inseparable, after all. Though, if sometimes one of them returns with disheveled hair or an odd mark, well… none of the others can really say they’re surprised.

**Author's Note:**

> дурак: stupid (one of the two Russian words Walter knows- I think it's technically a noun but we'll give Walter a break lol)  
> Максим, ты дебил: Maxim, you moron


End file.
